


A Riptide Christmas Carol

by Kerkerian



Series: Christmas Stories By Kerkerian [9]
Category: Riptide (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Friendship/Love, Introspection, M/M, Some Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:02:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21917233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kerkerian/pseuds/Kerkerian
Summary: Nick can't be persuaded to spend Christmas with Cody and Murray. It takes a special kind of apparition to make him reconsider...
Relationships: Cody Allen/Nick Ryder
Series: Christmas Stories By Kerkerian [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2073891
Comments: 10
Kudos: 49





	A Riptide Christmas Carol

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own Riptide.

_December 1986_

Nick sat in the galley and stared at the table. The Riptide moved ever so gently on the water, and the marina seemed more quiet than usual. No surprise, really, since it was Christmas Eve; people were probably home with their families. Nick closed his burning eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose with two fingers and wondering what Cody and Murray were doing. Probably sitting in front of a fireplace, of the kind that were so big you could almost stand in.

Nick opened his eyes again and resumed staring at the table in front of him; it was easier not to think about the others. He had said no when they had asked him to spend Christmas in their friend Andy's chalet in Aspen, because this time of year just got to him like nothing else did. He hated all of it- the forced cheeriness, the hypocrisy, people erroneously assuming that he just didn't care for it because it wasn't the same for a grown-up as it was for a child.

Wrong. He didn't care for it because he couldn't remember even one enjoyable Christmas. For him, the holidays had meant frayed nerves and a tense atmosphere and, later on, once things had deteriorated to a point where his parents hadn't been able to talk civilly with each other anymore, hassle and yelling. It was ironic that he and his mom weren't even talking anymore but he was still alone on this very day.

He rubbed a hand over his face, pouring himself some more of the whisky he was drinking: he had hurt Cody when he had bluntly refused, and he wasn't sure what was going to happen once Murray and Cody were back. Fact was that their goodbye hadn't been a happy one, and the memory of Cody's disappointed demeanour was easily giving way to the more unwelcome thoughts that were crowding his mind: that he was selfish bastard who simply couldn't do his partner justice, that Cody deserved better, deserved someone who put the other's needs first. That Cody was probably thinking the same at this very moment.

Nick squeezed his eyes shut: how messed up everything was, and all because of his inability to pull himself together for a few weeks every year.

He woke up disoriented and with a heavy head, for a moment drawing a complete blank what was happening. A movement just outside his field of vision startled him, but it was only the Roboz, who was looking at him now. Nick frowned; the robot hadn't been in here earlier. In fact, Murray had taken him to Aspen to test his batteries in colder weather conditions.

“That's right,” the Roboz now said in a pleasantly modulated voice, “I'm not really here.”

Nick stared at him: “Since when do you speak?”

“I don't, not in the waking world.”

“I'm not awake?”

“In this reality, you are.”

“What-”

“Your unhappy subconsciousness is creating this, therefore it is real to you,” the Roboz said. “Neither of us is actually here, and yet.” He paused.

Nick felt uneasy, but before he could ask anything else, the little robot continued: “I am going to show you something. Look.”

And right there before Nick's eyes, the scene changed. He was standing in a living room, and a little boy was playing with wooden blocks next to a large Christmas tree. A man was just kneeling down to join the child: “Look at that tower you built there, Nicky,” he said. “Need some help?”

Numbly, Nick watched his younger self and his father playing together. After a few minutes, the door opened and his mom came in, and Nick couldn't believe how young she looked, how much less care-worn. The same was true for his dad, though it wasn't only their appearance that was different but also the way they talked.

“Time for bed, Honey,” his mom now said. “You can continue this tomorrow.” Her tone was so gentle and affectionate that Nick felt his eyes get moist. He didn't remember any of this.

He watched as his dad lifted his younger self into his arms and carried him out of the room, then the scene changed again. There were still in the living room, and there was a Christmas tree, but his parents were fighting, and the boy Nick, a little older by now, was cowering behind an armchair and covering his ears.

It felt like a déjà-vu, which in a way it was, because Nick actually recalled this. Without noticing it, he wrapped his arms around himself as he watched how his mom yelled at his dad and how his dad's face turned red with anger. The little boy was barely visible from his perspective, but he remembered how scared he had been.

The fight had been about money, and he had felt terribly helpless. Apart from that, he had forgotten how loud his parents had been, how the room seemed to resonate with their shouting, and how the Christmas tree in all its glory had seemed to be in the wrong place all of sudden.

He blinked, and rather unexpectedly, he was back in the galley a moment later, with the Roboz looking at him. Nick was so shaken that his hands were trembling.

“So,” he said once he had his voice back under control. “You're the ghost of Christmas past?”

“I'm not a ghost,” the Roboz said. “I'm merely an expression of your subconscious.”

Nick shook his head: “This is crazy.”

The Roboz cocked his head: “Be that as it may- why do you think your mind chose to visit those two scenes?”

Snorting, Nick shrugged: “I dunno.”

“Would you care for my analysis of the available data?” the Roboz asked.

Nick closed his eyes for a moment: “Sure,” he said resignedly. It couldn't get any worse, after all.

“From what I've observed,” the Roboz now said, “there have evidently been happy times when you were very young. It appears that your parents have subsequently fallen out at one point, very likely because of monetary issues.”

Reluctantly, Nick nodded. “Why did we see the second one, huh?” he asked. “I really didn't need a repetition of that.”

“It probably served as a reminder that you do have a reason to abhor Christmas,” the robot replied. “Which people sometimes fail to understand.”

“Cody,” Nick muttered tiredly and with a pang. “I guess he thinks I'm being unreasonable.”

“And are you?” The Roboz regarded him.

Nick frowned: “Didn't you just tell me how I do have a reason for not wanting to celebrate Christmas?”

“Affirmative,” the Roboz said. “And yet, it appears that every matter must be viewed from different angles, since nothing is as two-dimensional as people would sometimes like to make out for the sake of convenience.”

Nick's frown deepened, but right then, the scene changed once more. He saw Cody and Murray, decorating a Christmas tree that was standing in an unfamiliar room with an indeed very large fireplace in which a fire was burning.

“This is nice,” Murray said. “Don't you just love the smell of the fir?”

Cody nodded, but he remained silent. Nick knew him well enough to recognize that he was unhappy and trying very hard not to show it.

“I sure wish Nick was here,” Murray continued. “Maybe he'd have liked it after all.”

At that, Cody's expression hardened: “He made his decision,” he said. “Nothing we can do about it now.”

Murray paused: “No,” he murmured, sounding downtrodden all of a sudden. “I guess you're right. I miss him, though.”

Cody avoided Murray's gaze: “Yeah, well.” His voice was barely audible. After a long moment of silence, Cody visibly pulled himself together: “I'm gonna get started on the eggnog now, what do you say?”

“I say bring it on,” Murray replied, obviously relieved.

“'kay.” Cody got to his feet and disappeared from the room. Murray sighed and turned towards the Roboz, the real one, who was holding a tray with baubles and wearing a Santa hat: “He's trying so hard,” he murmured, shaking his head. “I shouldn't have said anything.”

Nick felt as though someone had punched him in the gut. It was painful to see Cody hurting, and it was even worse that Murray was affected as well.

The scene changed once more, and Nick was back on the Riptide.

“I get it,” he muttered. “I was being selfish.”

The Roboz smiled sympathetically: “I understand that it is a human trait. However, it seems that at times, the inherent need for self-preservation can be mistaken for selfishness as well.”

“You trying to defend me to myself?”

“I don't understand that concept. I am only pointing out that in your case, as I have stated before, the matter is a little more complex. The parameters we have established so far allow for more room than one might initially have expected.”

Nick closed his eyes for a moment: “Meaning that it's not just black and white, is that what you're saying?”

“I believe I am.”

“So you are defending me.”

The Roboz once more cocked his head: “I see. Yes, I believe you're right.”

Nick shook his head: “That's nice of you. Still doesn't improve anything, does it.”

In the blink of an eye, the scene changed again. There was Cody, sitting in the salon of the Riptide with a beer, staring ahead unseeingly. The boat was mostly dark, yet the paper that was lying on the table said December 24th. The year was 1997, though it didn't look as though that much had changed. Cody's hair was beginning to grey and he had more lines in his face, but that was all.

Cody startled when the phone rang. Slowly, he got to to his feet to pick it up. “Yes?... oh, hi Murray.” He sat down again. “Thanks. Merry Christmas to you too. … Yeah, no, I'm by myself. Just couldn't face seeing anyone.” He sounded so forlorn that Nick's heart ached.

“I know. … I know, Murray, okay? It's just... It's not the same anymore. And I still miss Nick, I can't help it.” He looked as though he was going to cry, pinching the bridge of his nose with two fingers. His voice was tremulous when he spoke next: “I wish I could tell him, Murray. If he was still here … I know. You did? That's nice.” He took a deep breath. “Maybe in the new year. … Yeah. Okay. Thanks... tell them I said hi back. Later.”

He didn't immediately hang up but stared at the receiver for a while. Then, with one sudden, violent motion, he threw it against the wall, where it shattered. Cody was breathing heavily for a moment, then his face contorted. With a sob, he put his arms on the table, rested his head on them and wept.

With a shout, Nick sat up in bed, panting and staring into the darkness unseeingly. He was soaked in cold sweat and shaking. A moment later, there was a hand on his back: “Nick?” Cody said groggily, fumbling for the light switch with his other hand. “What's wrong?”

He sat up as well, looking Nick over with obvious dismay: “Baby, what's wrong?” he asked more urgently, shimmying forward a little so that Nick could look at him. Nick felt dizzy, unable to tell if this was real or not. He stared at Cody, still shaking: “I'm sorry,” he finally managed. “I'm so sorry!”

“Whatever for?” Cody's expression softened and his gaze was full of affection as he regarded his partner now.

“I said no,” Nick stammered. “I said no and it destroyed everything. I was being selfish, I should have considered your feelings-”

“Hey, hey,” Cody interrupted him. “What are you talking about?”

“Christmas,” Nick all but sobbed. “You wanted to spend it in Aspen and I refused-”

“What?” Cody said. “Don't you remember? We haven't decided anything yet. We discussed it once but were interrupted by Dooley, and we didn't get a chance to talk about it any further.”

Nick stared at him, comprehension slowly dawning on him: “It was a dream,” he murmured, feeling boneless with relief all of a sudden. “It was only a dream.”

Cody rubbed his back: “You're soaked. Come on, let's get you into something dry, and if you like, you can tell me about that dream.”

Twenty minutes later, they sat in the galley with some hot chocolate. It was nothing at all like it had been in the dream- for one, the Roboz wasn't there, but apart from that, it was palpably real, and it was cozy. Now that Nick was awake, he realized how off the colours and everything had seemed in his dream. Well, the fact that Cody had wrapped his arm around him protectively probably also had a lot to do with how different this felt.

He told Cody everything, which was surprisingly easy. Then again, they had some experience in the matter of nightmares and how to deal with them. Which incidentally was the reason why they were always well-stocked in the cocoa department.

When Nick had finished, they were silent for a moment, then Cody sighed, gently reinforcing his grip around the other: “I'm sorry that this is putting you through the wringer like that,” he said softly. “Dream-Roboz was right, though. I don't think you're being selfish either, Baby.”

“Nevertheless, it needs to stop,” Nick said gravelly. “I mean, this is ridiculous, a grown man falling to pieces because of some bad memories.”

Cody kissed his temple: “It's not ridiculous. It's a normal emotional reaction to childhood trauma.”

Nick snorted: “Yeah. I feel like a wimp.”

“Then I'm a wimp too, every time I dream of 'Nam.”

“Come on, man, that's different,” Nick protested, but Cody shook his head: “It's not. We're made of the sum of our experiences, Nicky. If there's a lot of bad stuff in there, it's bound to haunt us at times.”

Tiredly, Nick leaned his head against Cody's gloriously solid and real shoulder: “I dunno,” he murmured. “I'm sick of feeling like a victim every time I hear Jingle Bells.”

“Okay,” Cody replied softly. “So we'll try and make it stop.”

“How?”

“We'll start over. You know that I love Christmas, and I've been holding back all these years. Maybe it's time to do it properly.”

Nick sighed: “It _was_ different, back at your folks' house in '72,” he admitted.

“See?” Cody pressed another kiss on his Nick's hair. “Maybe we can turn it all around.”

Nick snaked his arms around Cody, holding on to him and tucking his head under Cody's chin: "Am I a Scrooge?" he asked, his voice thin all of a sudden. 

"No," Cody replied at once and with conviction. "You are many things, Nick Ryder, but definitely not a Scrooge." He sounded tender: "You've got such a good heart."

"But the dream-"

"Was nothing _but_ a dream, probably fuelled by all the Christmas frenzy around you. Don't let it get to your head, big guy. You know how twisted our subconsciousness can be sometimes." He chuckled softly: "Besides- I've never once heard you say 'Bah! Humbug!'"

Nick exhaled somewhat shakily, laughing a little as well: “Thank you,” he then said so softly it was barely audible, pressing a kiss on Cody's skin. “I love you.”

“I love you more.” Cody smiled into Nick's hair.

_Aspen, two weeks later._

The room was almost dark, only a few embers in the large fireplace were still glowing and a pair of candles on the mantle were spreading their gentle golden light.

Tired out from a day in the snow, Murray had fallen asleep on one of two enormous couches that were facing each another while Nick and Cody were almost dozing on the second one. Cody was watching the embers from under half-closed lids while Nick had turned his head towards the backrest and stretched out his legs so that his feet were in Cody's lap.

It was cozy and peaceful, and once more, Cody was glad that they had made the trip to Aspen in the end.

He blinked, trying not to give in to the growing temptation to simply close his eyes and fall asleep right there and then; instead, he gently kneaded Nick's foot: “You still awake?”

Nick hummed affirmatively: “Don't make me get up,” he muttered. “This is perfect.”

Cody smiled: “Yeah?”

At that, Nick peered at him: “Yeah,” he said softly. “It's nice. The snow, this place...” He broke off, aware that he didn't need to elaborate further.

“I'm glad,” Cody replied in an equally low voice.

Nick regarded him with a sleepy smile: “It's the nicest Christmas since I was eight. And 1972, respectively.”

“Really?” Cody's expression lit up.

“Yeah. And when you couldn't stop yourself from humming along to the radio... it was kinda cute.”

“Oh, wow,” Cody teased him. “This is quite a step, considering how I didn't even dare to turn the radio on at first. Next year we'll bring the Chipmunks album, huh?”

“Don't push it.” But Nick was still smiling.

_December 2019_

Cody was standing at the stove in the galley, stirring something in a large pot when Nick came in. He was wearing his bathrobe and looking disheveled; accordingly, his eyes were glassy, his face pale except for the tell-tale red hues of fever on his cheeks.

“What are you doing up?” Cody demanded. “Didn't I tell you that I'd bring you some soup once it's done?”

Nick's expression turned sheepish: “I needed more tissues,” he said hoarsely. “And I'm bored.”

“You're supposed to rest so you'll be fit next week.”

“I'll be fine,” Nick said dismissively. Cody shook his head, turned Nick around by his shoulders and steered him towards the stairs: “You always say that but we both know that it's not true. Christmas 1985 comes to mind.”

Nick stopped: “ _1985_? That's 34 years ago! How can you use that against me!"

Cody gently but firmly pushed him forward: "'Cause it's my prime example. There have been other instances I'm not going to rub in your face right now."

"How kind," Nick grumbled. Two seconds later, he stopped again: "Oh, and I wanted to remind you- we need more wrapping paper. I've used it all.”

“ _What_? What did you get me, an elephant?”

“Not telling. That's between Santa and me." 

“Fine." Sighing, Cody gave him another little push: “Come on, move.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Nick muttered. "Really, I could've just stayed in the galley with you." But he let Cody usher him up the stairs. In the salon however, he stopped again.

Cody shook his head: “It's like trying to reason with a donkey. You're going back to bed, mister, in case you intended to get comfy on the bench seat instead.”

“I didn't. We donkeys prefer a proper mattress nowadays. But we forgot the tissues.”

“Right. Wait here, I'll get them.”

Down in their stateroom, Cody pulled the covers up around Nick: “Did you take your temperature again?”

“102,” Nick replied softly. “It's going down.”

“Good.”

Cody reached out to stroke his still overly warm cheek: “Try to sleep,” he said. “The soup will be ready when you wake up. I'll quickly go to the market in the meantime, okay?”

Nick closed his eyes: “Don't forget the paper. Need to wrap the presents for Murray and the gang as well...”

“I won't.”

Leaning forward, Cody kissed him on the forehead: “See you later, big guy.”

“Hm.” Nick's hand appeared from underneath the covers; opening his eyes again, he reached for Cody: “Thanks,” he muttered. “You're the best.”

“Right back at you.” Cody's smile deepened: "You know that I could easily get it out of you, right? What you got for me Christmas, I mean."

Nick grinned groggily: "You wish."

Before he went shopping, Cody made a detour to pick up their mail. One of the envelopes didn't have a return address on them, but when Cody, curious from whom it might be, opened it, he found a card with a picture of the Riptide Detective Agency with the original Roboz in their midst printed on it. The little orange robot was wearing a Santa hat, and all three of them seemed impossibly young.

Cody remembered the occasion on which the picture had been taken: it was during their first Christmas in Andy's chalet in Aspen, the large fireplace visible behind them.

The back of the card read: “Can't wait to see you guys! Season's Greetings!”

Laughing softly, Cody put the card together with the rest of the mail into his bag, humming Jingle Bells under his breath all the way to the market.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas to all of you!


End file.
